


balustrade

by nacos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Meeting, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, amateur parkour, but not for long, daichi and iwa are roommates, daisuga mentions, everyone is susceptible to Human Feelings, iwa and daichi are socially inept, iwa and oikawa are neighbors, iwa is Fooled by oikawas act, iwachan does his own stunts, no one takes care of themselves, oikawa is a violinist, some name drops of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 22:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6132359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nacos/pseuds/nacos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>iwaizumi and oikawa are neighbors with incredibly close balconies</p><p>-</p><p>"But it's our thing."<br/>"What thing?"<br/>"<i>Our thing</i>, Iwa-chan!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	balustrade

**Author's Note:**

> ngl this fic is a bit of an experiment. i wanted to change a bit of the usual iwaoi dynamic which makes the entire intro to this fic a little Unnerving but trust me it will become ur regularly scheduled iwaoi™ like 1/3 of the way through (tho iwachan is still pretty enthralled by oikawa despite everything lmao)
> 
> peaa.tumblr.com

_We really should have just bought more tape. Why didn’t we buy more tape?_ Hajime sighs, stepping around the mess that just decided to deposit itself at his feet from the bottom of the box. He looks at the cardboard, now unfolded and useless and heaves another sigh.

“What’s got you grumping, Iwaizumi-kun?” Sugawara calls from the living room.

“Another box collapsed while I was carrying it,” He replies.

Daichi comes in holding a new box, this one thankfully held together with tape. “Did you hold it from the bottom?” He asks, helping Hajime haphazardly pile everything back into the box.

“Yeah, didn’t stop it from coming out.” Hajime sets the box aside in its original destination and walks with Daichi back out to the living room. They reach for the door, ready to go ensure the moving truck is empty, but Suga steps in front.

“We’re going to meet you guys’ neighbors.”

Hajime doesn’t like meeting new people. It just isn’t his thing. Daichi is pretty good at it – which is the one glaring difference between the two of them. Of course Daichi’s boyfriend, Sugawara, loves expanding his social circle. It fits him, though, unlike the stubborn, socially inept father-like façade Hajime somehow worked his way into (and denies the existence of).

So, Suga being Suga, he – _of course_ – insists the moment they finish moving the first set of boxes into Daichi and Hajime’s apartment that they introduce themselves to the neighbors. Hajime wants to protest – Sugawara _doesn’t even live here_ , why does he get to force this unwanted interaction on them – but he doesn’t, just remaining quiet and cool behind them, fingers twitching to reach for a cigarette to calm him down.

The first neighbor they meet is the one in apartment 503, a quiet man named Ushijima who lives alone with his 3 birds, which he also introduces. He’d apparently seen them coming up the elevator with their boxes minutes before, offering them a curt nod but otherwise getting out of their way. They exchanged courtesies and names, and then Ushijima closes the door. Hajime likes him already.

After their stunted attempt at conversation, both Daichi and Hajime were hesitant to continue, but Suga marches on along and knocks on the next door, 501. It takes a while for the door to open, but they hear a muffled “one minute please!” come from behind the divide. Suga turns back to grin at them, and the door rushes open, revealing a rather handsome man with bouncing, windswept brown hair. Hajime’s interest is piqued, the way it is when one spots a good looking stranger, and he quickly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Refreshing-kun?” The stranger says, eyes widened at Sugawara.

Suga looks genuinely surprised, but otherwise leans forward to give the man a hug. “Oikawa-kun! How long has it been?”

“At least a year, I think!” Oikawa pulls back, eyes finally connecting with the two behind Sugawara. “Ah, hello…” he greets, sentence open as he tilts his head in inquisition.

“Oh, this is Sawamura Daichi, my boyfriend, and Iwaizumi Hajime, his roommate. They just moved in next door.” Suga points to them respectively and then gestures to Oikawa. “This is my ex, Oikawa Tooru.”

 _It makes sense_ , Hajime thinks. Both of them are stunningly handsome, they’d make quite the power couple.

“Ex?” Daichi mumbles grumpily. “How come I’ve never heard about him?”

Suga just pats his bicep comfortingly and then turns back to Oikawa, grinning. The brunette grins back, and Hajime honestly can’t comprehend how one person can look _so good_. “Well, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. We’ll let you get back to work, I’m sure you’re busy.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Kou-chan!” Oikawa waves, and Daichi and Hajime bow as they leave. When Hajime looks back up, Oikawa is staring at him. He blinks, and the door is closing, but he still feels Oikawa’s gaze on his back, feeling exposed somehow.

When they return to their apartment, Suga starts laughing, rather uncontrollably. “Oh, _man_ , what are the chances? This will be fun.”

Before Hajime can ask _what the hell that means_ , Daichi beats him to the punch. “Why haven’t I heard about Oikawa Tooru?”

Suga just laughs again, almost giggling. “It wasn’t a serious relationship. We were just keeping each other company.”

“If you say so…” Daichi trails off, face still looking constipated. Suga holds his hand, and they share a look. Hajime feels like he’s intruding.

“What did _you_ think of him, Iwaizumi-kun?” Sugawara asks, eyes hiding a motive that Hajime can’t discern.

Even so, he replies honestly, simply. “He’s handsome. Seems rather nice”

“Well, yeah,” Suga snorts, “Just wait until you get to know him. He’s something.” He looks like he’s holding back laughs again. “And it’s Tuesday.”

“Cryptic Suga is never good.” Daichi says.

“Hush, you,” Sugawara slaps Daichi’s arm lightly with the hand that isn’t occupied as he turns back to Hajime. “So, you think he’s cute, huh?”

 

* * *

 

 

Suga only leaves once they successfully moved everything from their old place and they’ve gossiped about Oikawa Tooru sufficiently enough. Hajime feels like he knows more than he should, yet not enough – or at least he hoped it wasn’t everything. For all the good looks the man carries, he didn’t seem to have much character, from what Sugawara had been saying.

“I’m turning in for the night,” Daichi states into the quiet apartment, looking rather incomplete without Suga there. Hajime envies their relationship more than he’d care to admit so seeing Daichi look so desolate without his partner makes him itch.

“I’m gonna go smoke.” He says. Daichi waves him goodnight and retreats into his bedroom, feet dragging sleepily.

Hajime grabs his smokes out of his jacket and makes his way to the balcony. He hadn’t had a good chance to check it out before they had moved in, so he took this opportunity to soak in his surroundings. As he lights the end of the cigarette and takes a deep drag, he looks at the scenery around him. It’s not very exhilarating, they’re just facing a neighboring apartment complex that’s the boring grey brick he’s come accustomed to. The first thing he notices after that is how close the balconies are to each other. If one was daring enough, they could easily scale across, with only minimum chance for danger. The dark metal bars jutted out in such a way that invited one across. Hajime felt his inner child yearn to climb across the balconies, though he knows the danger is a lot more real from 5 stories up than it is from the tops of trees. The balcony to his right is barren, save for a few empty bird cages. Hajime’s own balcony has only slightly more décor – a couple of chairs and a small table that held a bright red ash tray, empty but worn.

He chances a glance left, and is genuinely surprised when he sees a rather large gathering of plants blocking his view. There’s light coming from behind the flora, and he hears a quiet humming. Curious, he leans slightly over the rails to crane his neck around the plants. When he sees a person, he quickly jumps back, heart pounding. After another breath, he leans back over, this time more slowly.

He sees Oikawa, bent over a table, gaze straight in studious attention. His pencil is flying on his paper, as he hums, foot tapping slowly. He stops writing, suddenly, and with a flourish picks up a violin and holds a bow to it with obvious precision. Without any ado, the bow begins to slide into a song. It’s fluid, and Oikawa’s back moves with such liquid movements that Hajime wonders if he is attached to the violin by more than just a hand on the bow. He doesn’t recognize the song, not being one for classical music, but it’s very beautiful and he can tell the player is a gifted violinist. Abruptly, Oikawa stops playing and groans loudly, setting the bow aside and replacing it with the pencil in his hand.

A hot, burning sensation on his finger lets Hajime know he forgot about his cigarette, and he quickly deposits the butt into the ash tray. He pulls out another one, resigned, and sits down to actually smoke this one.

By the time he finishes and turns in for the night, Oikawa had played the same bit of music over at least 20 times, he thinks, and showed no signs of stopping.

               

* * *

 

The next time Hajime sees Oikawa Tooru is when he’s walking home, arms full of groceries. The bags are wrapped all around his forearms, and while it’s not too heavy, it _is_ rather hard to walk when his legs keep hitting the sacks. He doesn’t need a car for his day to day life, but it sure would make getting groceries easier, he thinks.

“Ah, Iwaizumi-san! Do you need help?” As if answering a distress call, Oikawa jogs up, looking every bit perfect and just a little bit breathless. He’s got a violin case strung across his back and he’s just wearing a simple button up but the slacks that hug his thighs make Hajime feel a little weak.

“It’s not that bad.” He says, stopping nonetheless.

Oikawa smiles at him and Hajime swears there’s sparkles and he hates it. “I don’t mind. We’re both heading to the same place, and I would be happy to help.”

Hajime quietly passes a few bags over – shyly, but you won’t catch him admitting it – and they continue down the sidewalk together. A companionable silence washes over them but it doesn’t stop Hajime from feeling nervous. He feels like he should talk, but Oikawa is staring straight forward, humming slightly under his breathe. His eyes dart to the side suddenly, effectively catching Hajime staring. _I’m definitely blushing aren’t I_ , he thinks.

“I heard from Kou-chan that you were in a band in high school?”

Spluttering, Hajime has to keep himself from stopping in his tracks. He clears his throat and nods. “You play the violin, right?” He knows the answer to that question but he asks it anyway, desperate to get the conversation away from that topic.

Oikawa points at the case strung across his back with his thumb. “Yep!” He looks back at Hajime. “What kind of music did you guys play?”

Hajime shrugs, averting his eyes. “Just whatever we wanted to play. Nothing too much.”

“Too much?”

“I don’t know. Just chill music. I played bass so we kinda centered around that.” His shoulders maintain a permanent shrug, and Oikawa seems to pick up on it.

He looks away, his sharp eyes finally providing Hajime with some relief. “It’s cool that we both play music.” He says simply, letting the subject drop.

Hajime lets the embarrassment roll off him and he manages to not stumble over his next sentence. “Thank you for helping with the groceries. Were you playing your violin somewhere before?”

Oikawa nods. “The acoustics in my apartment aren’t the best, so sometimes I go down to the symphony hall and practice there.”

“They just let you in?” Hajime feels his jaw slacken slightly in shock.

His neighbor turns to him, perfectly shaped eyebrows knitted in barely concealed confusion. “Yes? I mean I’m there quite often.”

Letting out a low whistle, Hajime feels panicked at a lull in the conversation, but is relieved to find they’ve almost made it home. Oikawa holds the door to the lobby open for him and presses the elevator button, letting him walk in first. By the time Hajime stops in front of their apartment, he’s feeling properly taken care of. He also kinda feels like he should definitely kiss Oikawa Tooru’s beautiful face.

Oikawa leans in close to grab the remaining bags in Hajime’s hand so that he can unlock his front door easily and Hajime sort of just wants to – lean in and give his nose a little kiss. Oh God, he’s _so gay_. He needs to retreat.

When he gets his door open, he reaches for the bags in Oikawa possession and quickly pulls them inside, a mumbled ‘thank you’ tumbling past his lips as he shuts the door closed with his foot.

Groceries weighing him down, he leans his back against the door and slides down, body covered in bags and heart pounding.

               

* * *

 

It’s a groggy Sunday morning, fog thick from the height of the fifth floor balcony and Hajime feels like carrying his blanket around his shoulders as he goes out onto the balcony is warranted. Coffee in one hand and smokes in the other, he sets down his items and snuggles himself into the chair, blanket forming a cocoon around him. He lights his cigarette, settling back and blinking slowly. He can tell his blinks are eventually just becoming him closing his eyes, and he struggles to fight sleep.

The sky is being gently painted pinks and oranges by the rising sun, casting a faint glow on all his surroundings. All he hears is the chirping of birds and grasshoppers as they too wake from their slumber.

_Beep beep beep beep beep –_

What’s that beeping?

_Beep beep beep beep beep—_

Before Hajime can even crack an eye open, a loud crash sounds from the neighboring balcony, making him jump up to his feet. The beeping is from a fire alarm, he notices. Someone stumbles out onto the balcony, coughing. “Ugh, I’m never baking again,” Oikawa groans.

Hajime leans over the balcony to see Oikawa rushing back into his apartment. Only a moment later, the beeping stops and he can hear him whining over what was apparently supposed to be a gift for someone.

 

* * *

 

 

As the days pass, Hajime begins to understand the cryptic twinkle of mirth that had been in Suga’s eyes that day regarding Oikawa Tooru. He understands it _all too well_ , he thinks, as he sits out on his balcony “rage-smoking,” (Daichi refers to this particular event, when Hajime gets so angry he smokes almost half a pack and just stews in a poisonous cloud.)

The music for today is the same 2 measures of some piece of Vivaldi shit and Oikawa Tooru’s drunken ranting.

Most of it is absolute nonsense but he can pick out a couple of names and the fact that some of his kouhai are trying to show him up. He’s seen several scores of music thrown of the balcony, only to float down gently, as if mocking the anger of its owner.

Daichi reminds him to count his prayers – at least it isn’t the parties. And Daichi is right. The thumping music and rowdy games of karaoke are not something he wants to hear every week, but lo and behold Oikawa Tooru can’t go 7 days without a party on Friday nights. Also he doesn’t know who Bokuto or Kuroo are but if he hears them sing loudly and terribly to Nicki Minaj’s Anaconda one more time he think he might just explode in a ball of repressed anger.

If it’s not the loud parties, then it’s Oikawa Tooru’s single parties that occur almost every Thursday. It’s him, whatever bottle of booze he can find, and the entire Katy Perry discography at his disposal. No matter how beautiful that man is, the slurred lyrics to Teenage Dream on his lips are enough to make anyone disgusted.

Hajime wonders if Oikawa Tooru lives on his balcony, with how often he’s out there, but when Daichi points out that he’s obviously out there a lot too if he’s there to hear it all, Hajime never brings up the subject again.

 

* * *

 

Five weeks into settling into his new apartment with Daichi and Suga, Hajime begins to think he might get used to Oikawa’s idiosyncrasies.

 

* * *

 

It’s a Monday night, which means Hajime is parked on his chair on the balcony, huffing a cigarette like it’s his last grace. He feels like it is, anyway. The everyday pains of being a common salaryman weigh heavy on Monday nights, the crushing gravity of his uselessness in the world becoming ever-apparent. He yearns for a nice glass of bourbon to ease this funk but he drank it all last Monday. So instead he sits in the uncomfortable plastic chair and smokes more than he should.

Daichi had just gone back in from his last attempt at trying to get Hajime to eat, but he can still hear – _feel_ – Suga telling him to go back out again. He squeezes his eyes shut like it will solve something and takes a long drag. On his exhale, he hears Oikawa Tooru step out onto his balcony. It’s quiet, no rustling of papers, no humming or tapping his feet. If this were any other day, Hajime would crane his neck around the plants to see what he’s doing (a rather voyeuristic habit he wished he never picked up) but now – he’s tired.

It creeps up on him – the song. The beginning crescendo starts so quietly that he’s eased into it. It isn’t forced upon him, it just nudges gently at his mind. The song smells of fresh daisies and it’s sweet on his tongue, coating every sense in its richness. If he heard all songs like this, he could understand wanting to become a musician. But no, this song is special. It feels as if it’s being played just for him.

Is it?

When his eyes open, it’s with the fresh sleepiness of being woken by another voice. Had he fallen asleep? Was the voice talking to him?

“Okay, there, you got a song in. Now come eat this like you promised.” No, it’s not talking to him. Is it next door?

“I’m just fulfilling my day’s duty, Tetsu-chan. What’d you get me?”

“A hearty bowl of ramen.” Silence. “Oh, shut up, I’m running out of money trying to feed your ass. I’ll be glad when this concert is over. And when are you going to get a boyfriend, huh? You’re not getting any younger.”

Oikawa laughs. “You sound exactly like my mom.”

Hajime can tell they’re about to go inside by the way the volume of their voice changes. “What about that hot guy next door you couldn’t stop talking about? What was his name? Iwa-something?”

What. What? Wait, no, don’t go inside!

“You know I – ” The door shuts behind them, effectively cutting off Oikawa’s voice.

_What._

 

* * *

 

 

He can’t believe it. He honestly can’t. Years of countless responsibilities, _countless keys_ , and it all boils down to this moment that fate decided to kick him in the ass. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. He was an honest man. The most negative thing about him is his smoking habit, but did life really have to fuck him over like this?

Hajime grips the door handle, jostling it like it might give him some answers. Just on the other side of that door, right next to his shoes, lay his keys and with it, his flash drive. The files on it were due hours ago, and honestly Hajime had given up on that already. He just wanted to sit in his bed for a while and not move. Losing his fight, his arms flop uselessly at his sides and he slides down to the floor.

Why did Daichi and Suga have to pick today to have their one year anniversary? Sure, they couldn’t control that sort of thing but Hajime wanted to blame it on them anyway. With them, both being key wielders, being hours and hours away, Hajime was left to fend for himself on the proverbial curb. His head rolls back and he lets it hit the wall, his eyes watching what they will. When his gaze grazes upon Oikawa Tooru’s door, he realizes, and feels a little like an idiot.

He jumps up and leaves his sudden embarrassment behind, firing three sure knocks on the door. There’s no immediate answer, but Hajime can hear the faint violin playing. He’s here, that much he knows. He knocks until he hears the violin stop playing, ear pressed to the door. He backs off in the silence, shoving his hands into his pockets.

When Oikawa opens the door, he looks as gorgeous and windswept as he did before, but this time Hajime isn’t staring at him with wonder. They’d seen each other a few times since Hajime’d moved here, what with Suga bringing him into conversations and them seeing each other in passing down the hallway or in the elevator. And does he even need to mention what he’s witnessed on the balcony? The novelty of Oikawa Tooru had worn off. (Or so Hajime likes to tell himself.)

“How can I help you, Iwaizumi-san?” He asks, smiling.

“Balcony.” He says smartly.

Oikawa tilts his head, as he does, and his eyebrows knit together slightly.

 _He looks cute_. Hajime coughs. “I mean, I’m locked out of my apartment but I know I left the back door unlocked because I went out to smoke this morning. And uh. The balconies are close so could I climb across? Please.”

Staring at him blankly, Oikawa’s gaze pierces through him like he’s invisible for half a beat, then a grin cuts its way across his face. “Sure, sure!” He steps back against the door, gesturing for Hajime to pass.

Hajime’s shoulder relax. Somehow he was expecting more of a fight, but he steps inside without further ado.

His first lines of thought are along the lines of _how the fuck does this place stay so clean with how often Oikawa has people over_? _He has white furniture. What kind of sorcery is he working here?_ The only things that could be considered a mess would be the various scoresheets laying around along with a weird, amber colored rectangle at every turn. Hajime spies Oikawa’s violin propped on a metal stand, its dark wood standing out against the silver that holds it. It looks elegant, like everything here does. Hajime’s frustrated for some reason.

When he reaches the back door, he hazards a glance behind him to find that Oikawa is nowhere to be seen. He feels awkward being alone in a stranger’s house so he hurries to pull open the door. It’s odd to be standing on the other side of the tall potted plants, the balcony familiar yet not. He mumbles a quiet “excuse me,” to the potted plant, pulling it back out of the way by its base. Path clear, he marvels at how close the distance really is, hands gripping the railings. He hikes a leg over the rails, switching his position to the other side. Heartbeat picking up at the thrill of being in possible danger, Hajime turns to gain purchase on the bars that cage his own balcony. He makes his way across without further ado, dusting off his jeans.

“I-Iwa-chan, help!”

“Who’re you callin’ Iwa – ” Hajime whips back to glare, only to see Oikawa hugging the bars of his balcony with shaking limbs. “What are you doing? Why are you coming across too?!”

“Help me, you brute!” Oikawa whines.

Fighting the urge to yell at him, he turns back around and reaches out for the other man. “Take my hands.”

Oikawa nods shakily, removing one hand at a time to put them in Hajime’s own. Once he has a sure grip, he pulls the brunette across with as much strength as he can muster, stumbling backwards at the force of the taller man crashing into his chest. They grasp at each other and somehow he keeps them from falling over, sighing over his neighbor’s shoulder. “What the hell,” He mutters.

“Iwaizumi’s too long.” Oikawa says, resting his forehead on Hajime and taking deep breaths like he just ran a marathon. He smells like expensive cologne.

Hajime pushes him off so he can feel the brunt of his glare. “Oikawa isn’t that much shorter!”

Oikawa pouts at him. “Iwa-chan rolls off the tongue better. Less syllables.”

“Sorry my name isn’t convenient for you.” He sighs, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with practiced ease.

“Smoking’s bad for you, y’know.”

Hajime exhales at him.

Oikawa frowns but otherwise is unperturbed. “Stop, I get enough secondhand smoke with how much you’re out here!” He sticks out his tongue childishly.

Pulling his cigarette out of his mouth, Hajime stands ready to put it out. “If it really bothers you that much, I’ll start smoking elsewhere.”

Oikawa looks shocked and a little flustered. “No, no.” He averts his eyes. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t know why, but Hajime feels a little flustered too. “Okay. Cool.” He pulls the cigarette back to his mouth, taking a short drag. He exhales away from Oikawa this time. “Anyway, if you wanted to come over that badly you should’ve come through the front door like normal people.”

“You didn’t go through the front door.” Oikawa points out, smirking.

“That’s because I left my keys inside, you asshole!”

“That’s not my fault.” His eyes wander, taking in the simplistic display that is Hajime’s porch. He looks back at his own, eyebrows drawing down. “Hey, these balconies are pretty close to each other. Haven’t really noticed it before.”

Hajime nods. “Yeah, they are.”

“You hear a lot, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

Oikawa laughs a high-pitched, slightly panicked cackle and grins at Hajime. “My good looks make up for it.”

Hajime sneers at him. He’s right but Hajime won’t admit it.

Oikawa’s stomach growls and he has the gall to look at him with an expectant look. “You made me climb over here.”

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

“I was joking! It was a joke!” He rubs his stomach tenderly and pouts. “Guess I’ll just have to go back to my apartment and find something to eat, all alone.”

Hajime gruffly pulls open the backdoor and steps aside to let Oikawa pass. “I’m making omurice.”

“Pfft, how childish, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa snickers.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Oikawa watches him cook from a bar stool, legs poised so perfectly that it reminds Hajime of how star struck he used to be at the sight of him. He’s humming a song that Hajime recognizes from one of his days on the balcony and he’s mad that it soothes him a bit. “So why do you pretend to be such a suave guy when really you’re as smooth as a pinecone?”

“Mean! I never pretend.”

“Really? What happened to calling me ‘Iwaizumi-san’,” he does a poor impression of Oikawa’s voice, “then?”

“We’re close now. It’s time for nicknames! Give me a nickname, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa leans forward, chin on his palm and looking unfairly pretty sitting in Hajime’s kitchen.

“How about Shitty Oikawa?”

Letting out an indignant squawk, he gets out of his chair and flattens his palms on the bar. “That’s not cute! Plus it’s too long.”

“Oh, my bad, you’re right.” Hajime concedes, cracking eggs into the pan. “Shittykawa is much better.”

“Don’t shorten your insults!”

By the time Hajime finally finishes the preparations, Oikawa is fidgeting greatly in his seat. “I’m starving,” he announces.

Hajime sets the plate in front of him with a napkin and a spoon, but his guest makes no move to grab it. “Something wrong?”

Oikawa looks up at him, pouting fiercely. “You’re not gonna write on it?”

Silently, Hajime turns back to grab the ketchup off the counter, pulling Oikawa’s plate toward him and write fast and sloppy. When he pushes it back in front of Oikawa, the violinist laughs. “’Get out.’ What kind of person punctuates their omurice? There’s a little period there.” He softens at the fit of giggles that consumes Oikawa as the man barely stumbles out a little ‘thank you for the meal.’

He goes to take a bite of his own unmarked plate, but Oikawa gasps and pulls it out of his reach. “You can’t eat a blank one! That’s bad luck.” He reaches for the ketchup and neatly writes a message of his own, pushing it back to Hajime.

‘Saved by Oikawa-san!!!’ it reads, complete with a small face beside it. He wordlessly smudges the sauce on top, ignoring Oikawa’s offended scoff. He scoops in a mouthful and casually glances up to gauge the other man’s reaction to the food.

He’s sitting there, mouth full and eyes wide, looking ridiculous. Before Hajime can ask if he’s okay, Oikawa gulps it down, grinning manically. “Iwa-chan that was delicious! I should eat here forever!”

Hajime can’t help but feel pleased with himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re too cute.”

“No, you are.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the cutest.”

“Okay, you can be the most handsome.”

“No, I’m afraid that goes to you too.”

“Well - ”

Hajime groans. “Okay I get it, you guys are in love. Tone it down please.”

Suga doesn’t remove himself from Daichi, who’s beginning to look uncomfortable. “Someone’s jealous,” he says, rubbing his nose against Daichi’s gently. They’re in the kitchen preparing dinner together, but the ladle sits forgotten in the pot of simmering soup.

 “Ah, I didn’t know you were still here, Iwaizumi.” Daichi moves to pull away but Sugawara pulls him back in for a heavy smooch.

“Nope.” Hajime says, grabbing his coat and heading straight for the balcony.

“Sorry!” Daichi calls after him.

Once he reaches the outside, he sighs into the cool air and sits in his usual chair. These days it’s hard to contain the surge of jealousy he feels when seeing Daichi and Suga being overly domestic. A part of him aches for a companion – something he hasn’t had since high school.

A sturdy red blanket that he recognizes as Oikawa’s is sitting in the chair next to him, left from previous nights ago. Hajime reaches across and pulls it into the lap, the weight of it warm and heavy like a promise. He feels silly. He taps a cigarette out of its carton and into his waiting finger, lighting it expertly and immediately taking a drag. He glances to his left to see Oikawa – who had suspiciously moved the plants out of the way since their meeting – stepping outside with his violin and shortly diving right into playing.

Oikawa Tooru was a whirlwind in Hajime’s life; everything was somehow centered completely on him yet Hajime had the feeling that if Oikawa wanted to be invisible, he could. But that was hardly the case, apparently, because the moment he had seen a poster outside with Oikawa’s face on it he went to Suga for answers. According to him, Oikawa was actually a semi-famous violinist in Japan, and the owner of numerous awards.

Hajime figures he shouldn’t be that surprised, given how much time and effort Oikawa had put into practicing his violin. He’s seen the long, affectionate fingers slide across strings with elegant precision and passionate expression. The signs were all there, really. Like when Oikawa would get stuck on a measure and he’d play it and play it until it’s perfect, even if it took him all night. (On some rare nights, Hajime would go to sleep hearing a song and wake up to the same notes.)(It all sounds perfect to Hajime, who can admit that Oikawa plays beautifully.) He can’t help the pinch of worry, though, when he can tell Oikawa hasn’t eaten anything or left that spot outside for hours. He gets so into his playing that he doesn’t even notice anything. (One time it started to rain and as Hajime had ducked inside, he saw that Oikawa didn’t notice until his fingers slip and he squawks, quickly running under cover.)

He’s also learned that Oikawa has extreme alcoholic tendencies – not that Hajime’s one to talk – that more often than not bleeds over into the parties he has almost weekly. His friends Kuroo and Bokuto always show up with a lot of people and the noise level increases exponentially.

And thanks to Oikawa’s affinity for drunken ranting, Hajime knows more than he should about Oikawa’s rival “Tobio-chan” and his accompanist “Shrimpy-chan” who apparently are quickly working their way up in the orchestra scene.

But as he looks at the man himself, he can’t bring himself to believe it. Oikawa’s strong back flexes with the movement of his arm as he plays some piece that sounds only a little familiar to Hajime. It sounds flawless, and sure, Hajime may not know much about classical music, but he knows music. Oikawa is good.

The bow stutters on the violin, and it brings Hajime out of his own head. He’d been staring. It’s creepy, and he should really go back inside to make sure they couple inside hadn’t set the kitchen on fire in neglect, but before he can make a move Oikawa is sniffing the air and whipping around.

“I thought I smelled a poisonous cloud of smoke!” Of course, the one time he’s easily pulled out of his practice is when Hajime is here. “How long were you watching me?”

“I just got out,” Hajime lies.

Oikawa smirks. “Says the person with the nearly-gone cigarette in his mouth.”

“Shut up,” He says automatically, turning back to step inside. “I have to go eat so go back to playing.”

“Ooh, wait!” He looks back to see Oikawa attempting to climb across – _again_. Like always, he stops halfway through and flashes Hajime a look and whimpers.

“Dumbass! Why don’t you take the front door like a normal person?!” He scolds Oikawa, but moves to help him across anyway. Oikawa’s grip feels familiar in his own, and his mind lingers even as Oikawa crashes against his chest.

“I’m not like other girls,” Oikawa whispers, breaking whatever atmosphere Hajime was feeling.

Hajime groans. “Why did you come across?”

Oikawa smiles charmingly, “I want to eat your cooking.”

“Well unfortunately for you it’s Suga’s cooking. Now go away.”

“What!” He gasps. “I haven’t seen Kou-chan in forever.” He pushes past Hajime and walks inside. Grumbling, Hajime follows him and as he shuts the door behind him, he already hears Daichi complaining.

“Oikawa Tooru is here. Again. What a shock.” He says, making Suga laugh. The pale haired man pecks his lips before pulling away to go give Oikawa a fierce hug.

Suga is all grins, happy to be surrounded by people, while Daichi and Hajime corral themselves into the kitchen to busy themselves with the soup in silence. “Oikawa-kun! Please join us for dinner,” Suga says, “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I’m not only here for Iwa-chan and his beautiful muscles, I’m here for you, Kou-chan.”

Before either of the men in the kitchen can say anything about it, the two begin their tangent about muscles, Daichi and Hajime’s name appearing multiple times. Daichi’s call for dinner falls on deaf ears as Hajime turns off the burner. Jerking a hand back at the balcony in invitation, Hajime walks to the back door, ready to just sit this one out. Daichi follows him and they sit down, both tired just from being in the same room as Oikawa and Sugawara. Daichi watches as Hajime pulls out a cigarette, eyebrows scrunched.

“You know what, fuck it. Give me one.”

Hajime chuckles, lighting the cigarette and shaking his head. “No way. Stop being a baby, you know Suga is head over heels for you.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier to see him so close with his ex.” Daichi frowns, eyebrows scrunching even more. He’s starting to look like Hajime. “Am I being too possessive?”

“Nah, you just care about him. And you’re not keeping him from talking to anyone, so I’d say you’re fine.” Hajime exhales smoke. “Just let Sugawara know you love him and everything will pan out.”

Daichi nods solemnly, looking introspective. “Aren’t you upset?”

An eyebrow raises. “Why? Should I be?”

“Oh, uh, no.” Daichi stands quickly, wiping his hands on his shorts. “I’m gonna go back in, I’m starving.”

“’Kay. I’ll be in in a bit,” He says, giving a lazy salute before turning back forward. Why should he be upset? Hajime squeezes his eyes shut. He’s not an idiot – he knows he feels attraction towards Oikawa in some shape or form. He is a beautiful person. But is that all it is - just physical attraction? No. Maybe at the beginning, but not now. He can’t deny the desire he feels to hold onto Oikawa’s hand after helping him across the balcony, to hold him tight and fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him and cook for him and – shit he’s blushing now, embarrassed heat travelling down his ears and neck.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a peculiar noise behind him. He turns and sees Oikawa trying to toe open the door with his hands full of soup. Hajime gets up to help open the door and Oikawa sighs with relief. “Oh, thanks,” he breathes, walking past. He sets the soups down and pulls spoons out of his pocket. “I wanted to eat with you, Iwa-chan!”

“I figured you’d want to hang out with ‘Kou-chan’,” Hajime says, pettily, sitting down and pulling the bowl into his lap.

Oikawa grins at him. “That was a lie, I’m really here for you.”

Heart in his throat, Hajime fights off a grin and looks down, ears bright red. “Why? I didn’t cook.”

“Because I like you,” he says simply, immediately tucking into his meal. “Mm! Good, but definitely not Iwa-chan good.”

Hajime takes that as his cue to eat as well, and they spend a few moments of silence. He feels so at peace for someone whose heart was beating so fast. It doesn’t last long though.

“You’re such a messy eater. Where are your table manners?”

“We’re not at a fucking table, dumbass.” He makes a point to slurp his soup loudly.

Oikawa’s nose scrunches. It’s cute. “You’ll never get with anyone if you keep that up, you caveman.” He places a hand delicately on his chest. “But don’t worry, Oikawa-san will bail you out in that case.”

“Oh?” Hajime finishes his soup, and uses his spoon to poke Oikawa’s arm. “And how will you do that?”

“If it comes to that, I will have no choice but to date you myself. I wouldn’t want you to die alone, Iwa-chan.”

He considers himself lucky he finished his soup, because if he hadn’t, he would have either choked on it or spilled it in his lap. “The fuck?” he sputters.

“I know, I know, I’m very gracious.” Oikawa primly sips his soup, unaware to the war that had just broken out inside Hajime.

“Who’d want to date you?” He squeaks meekly, and he immediately wants to throw himself off the balcony.

Oikawa smiles slyly, but drops the subject. He stays long after finishing his soup, talking with Hajime about random topics, ranging from childhood memories to which type of tofu was the best. The company was welcomed and Hajime felt warm despite the cold air surrounded the two of them. By the time Oikawa leaves, the moon is high in the sky, illuminating his features in the most surreal way.

“Alright, Iwa-chan, I know you’ll miss me but I’ve slacked on practicing long enough.” He stands up, and Hajime finds himself standing too.

He just nods, stuffing his hands into his hoodie, and Oikawa smiles affectionately at him. He walks his neighbor back to his apartment, and they stop outside his door. Before Hajime can say anything, Oikawa dips in quick and presses a kiss to his cheek, lips close to his mouth. His lips are warm and soft, and Hajime wants to shift just slightly so their mouths align, but all too quickly, Oikawa is pulling away and heading inside, taking Hajime’s heart with him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he sees Oikawa is just a few days later. He had just gotten home from work and was frankly exhausted. When he was younger he never would have guessed that having his nose stuck in a mountain of paper all day would tire him out seeing as he used to play volleyball regularly in high school. He toes his shoes off at the door, changes into his sleep clothes, makes his way to the couch, and falls down face first. He has the whole apartment to himself and he’s going to take advantage of this opportunity to its full extent. He’s going to pass out wherever the fuck he wants and he’s going to eat whatever he can cook in the microwave.

Unfortunately for Hajime, his plans are thwarted by a loud familiar squawk outside his door.

“ _I-Iwa-chan help!!_ ”

Hajime gets up faster than he thinks he ever has, rushing to his back door and throwing it open. Oikawa’s trembling and hugging the top of the railing on Hajime’s side. “My-My shoelace is stuck and I don’t want to die!” He’s crying and his nose is dripping and Hajime resists the urge to mock him for it.

“Just pull your foot out of your shoe, dumbass!” Hajime rushes to get a grip on Oikawa’s shoulders to ensure he doesn’t fall.

“I just got these shoes!” Oikawa whines, making no move to remove his foot.

Groaning but anxious to get out of this situation, Hajime hugs his shoulders more bodily. “I’ve got you,” he says as calmly as he can. “Try and unhook the lace.” When Oikawa looks at him with uncertainty, he just repeats, “I’ve got you.”

The trembling man looks down at his shoes and Hajime can only ponder how he used to think Oikawa was prim and proper before. When his shoelace is successfully unhindered, Hajime gently pulls him back and onto the balcony. Now that Oikawa is safe, Hajime feels less bad about what he’s going to do.

Winding his arm back, he punches Oikawa harshly in the gut.

“Gah!” He coughs, doubling over a bit. “What was that for?”

“Use the front door, you complete dumbass!” He grabs Oikawa’s collar, shaking him a bit. “You can’t do it so stop trying! You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

Oikawa pouts, putting his hands atop Hajime’s clenched fists in his collar. “But it’s our thing.”

“What thing?!”

“Our _thing_ , Iwa-chan,” He sighs like Hajime is genuinely the one at fault here.

Hajime punches him in the shoulder. “I’ll punch you!”

“Don’t warn me after you do it!” Oikawa whines.

He takes a deep breath, attempting to expel all the pent up frustration. He lets go of Oikawa’s shirt and Oikawa’s hands follow his like an apology and they rest in between them. Hajime softens a little as their fingers intertwine slightly. “Why did you want to come over so badly, anyway?”

Oikawa jumps a little. “Oh!” He releases one hand and reaches into his back pocket, pulling a ticket out. “I have a concert coming up on Friday. And I know classical music isn’t your thing but since I’m amazing that won’t be a problem.” He averts his eyes slightly, breaking the brave façade. “They’re the best seats in the house; the acoustics hit just right. And well, _itwouldmeanalotifyouwent_.”

Hajime can’t help but gape at him. He’s blushing and all Hajime can think about is _how pretty red looks on his cheeks_.

“Iwa-chan?”

He grabs the proffered ticket and nods. “I’ll be there.”

The blush, fleeting and ephemeral, is completely gone and his expression is traded for a smug look. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

“One more word and I’ll rip it up.”

Hajime finally stands up, helping Oikawa with their already intertwined hand. He reluctantly pulls away, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, thumb fingering the edges of the ticket.

“Wanna come over? I’ll make you dinner,” Oikawa asks.

He’s exhausted and tired and he really should be asleep right now, but he finds himself agreeing anyway. When Oikawa moves towards the edge of the balcony, Hajime holds him back by the neck of his shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me.”

“Our _thing_ , Iwa-chan!” Oikawa repeats.

Groaning, Hajime runs a hand over his face, weighing whether or not it would be easier to insist or just do it anyway. “Fine. But I’m going across first so I can help you.”

“My hero,” Oikawa remarks as Hajime climbs with ease. He turns immediately and holds his arms out for Oikawa to grab. Oikawa hikes a knee over the railing and grips tightly as Hajime pulls him across. As usual, he crashes into Hajime chest, and this time he wraps his arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

Hajime pushes him off, heart beating so rapidly he fears Oikawa might hear it. “Hurry up and make me dinner.”

Oikawa pouts at him, but otherwise leads the way into his apartment. It looks the same as it always does, clean yet still in disarray because of all the violin accessories. Hajime follows him into the kitchen and he takes his place on a counter’s edge, legs dangling slightly off the side. The warm setting sun aligned perfectly with the window in the kitchen, shooting a long, bright ray of light across the middle of the room. As Oikawa flutters about the kitchen, prepping the food, he passes through occasionally, drawing Hajime’s attention when the light illuminates his body. He hates how _watchable_ Oikawa is. No matter how mundane the task, the man brings attention to himself. It’s hard to believe that the graceful being in front of Hajime is the same one that was just sniveling on his balcony moments ago.

“Alright,” Oikawa begins, walking towards Hajime. “That has to simmer for a couple of minutes.” He places his hands on either side of Hajime’s hips, leaning in slightly. “What should we do to pass the time?”

Hajime instinctually leans back, eyes averted. “Get away from me, idiot.” There’s no bite behind it.

“I’ve never heard an insult sound so gentle,” Oikawa says, voice quiet, backing away but hands remaining firm beside Hajime. “You like me.”

 _Yes I do_ , Hajime’s heart screams, breath hitching in his throat. “Fuck off,” he grumbles. He’s still afraid to make eye contact with him.

“Do you want to learn how to play the violin?”

 _That_ makes him look up. “What?”

Oikawa smiles at him, perfect teeth peeking out. “After we eat. I can show you how to play the violin.”

“Sure,” Hajime says, slipping off the counter and forcing Oikawa to take a step back. Oikawa’s arms are falling back to his sides, but the two are still standing in close. Hajime looks him in the eye, grinning back. “Just make sure you don’t cry when I’m better than you.”

He pulls away fully, turning back to the stove to tend to the food. “Oh, it’s on, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

When they finally settle down to eat, Hajime is surprised when the food actually isn’t that bad. It’s not overly outstanding or flavorful, but it’s not a gross burnt clump like he was expecting. He figures all of those times the fire alarm had gone off had been more so due to neglect than any direct error on Oikawa’s part.

After they rinse the dishes, Oikawa instructs Hajime to stand in the living room while he gets his violin. Hajime wipes his hands on his pants and stands awkwardly, wondering whether or not he should take off his hoodie. What shirt was he wearing underneath? It was just some faded graphic tee, wasn’t it? He was planning on falling asleep earlier – now he’s standing in the middle of his romantic interest’s apartment in sweatpants, his body on fire and restless.

“Ahh, is Iwa-chan worried he’s gonna suck now?” Oikawa stops in front of him, holding out the instrument. “Try and be gentle with your gorilla fists; this violin is probably the most expensive thing you’ll have the pleasure of holding.”

Hajime sighs. “Oh, so I can’t break it against your head. Got it.” He reaches for it with both arms, attempting to be careful despite his threats.

Once it settles firmly in the grip of his left hand, Oikawa hands him a bow. “I picked this one just for you,” he says.

“What makes it different?”

“It’s heavier. I feel like it will suit Iwa-chan’s sound best.”

Hajime holds it in his hand, getting used to the weight of the bow. “My sound? I’ve never played a violin before.”

“Just a hunch,” Oikawa says, stepping forward and placing his hands on Hajime’s shoulders. “Shoulders back, stand tall yet relaxed.” His hands run down Hajime’s torso and to tap his hips. “Legs shoulder-width apart.” He can feel the gentle pressure of Oikawa’s fingers pressing his legs into a proper stance, setting his skin alight. Oikawa steps around, standing right behind him. A hand runs down Hajime’s back, and he tries his best not to shiver as Oikawa whispers for him to straighten his back. He swears he can feel lips brush his ear, and he’s never wanted to simultaneously lean away and into a touch before. Next thing he knows Oikawa’s back in front of him, gaze focused on his arms. He lifts Hajime’s left hand and places the violin onto his shoulder. “Turn your head but don’t tilt it too much. The violin should stay up with only the support of your head.”

He feels overly malleable as Oikawa curves his hand on Hajime’s jaw to push his chin squarely on the rest. He manipulates Hajime’s right arm to his liking, letting the bow settle onto the violin. When Oikawa steps away, Hajime moves the bow against the strings experimentally, almost shocked that a noise came out. He looks to Oikawa for feedback, only finding a wide grin on his face.

“What?” He asks, voice thick from under use.

“You look good.” Hajime feels his blood set on fire as his arms fall limp at his side, his hands sweating again. Oikawa’s eyelids lower and his head falls back. “I’m starting to seriously regret not seeing you in that band of yours.”

Hajime’s afraid he might drop the violin, so he quickly holds it out for Oikawa to take. “I thought there was an unspoken agreement to not talk about that.”

Oikawa quickly deposits the violin onto a nearby stand, walking in close to Hajime and hooking a finger under his chin. “Mm, was there?”

Jerking out of his reach, Hajime steps back maybe a bit more than could be considered casual. “I have to go.” He quickly makes his way to the back to pick up his shoes before pivoting in the opposite direction to the front door.

“Iwa-chan - ”

He couldn’t do this. Nope. He couldn’t be this close and deal with the meaningless flirting and hold back the very real feelings pounding in his chest.

“I’m tired, I have work tomorrow. Thank you for the food.” He pulls the front door open, ignoring Oikawa’s confusion and getting the hell out of there as fast as he can.

When he closes his own apartment door behind him, he sinks to the ground, hands holding his warm cheeks.

 

* * *

 

 

The day of the concert Hajime sits on his bed in his underwear, ticket staring ominously at him from his nightstand. On the other side lay a pile of clothes discarded from earlier, deemed unworthy. He hates this. He genuinely does. Why is he being a stereotypical teenager from some high school drama? Why do feelings have to make everything so _complicated_? In addition, he strongly regrets not asking what the dress code for the event is because now he has to be either casually overdressed or formally underdressed.

He squares the fuck up and pulls on clothes he’d wear to work, forgoing the tie and choosing a shirt that he think someone, a long time ago, said looked good on him, maybe, probably. He refuses to look in a mirror from then on, lest he find something wrong with the outfit.

He makes dinner but most of it ends up being put in the fridge as leftovers. He’s so _goddamn nervous_ , but he won’t let it show. It’s not like this is a date – he probably won’t even get to talk to Oikawa all that much anyway. It’s just a concert. No big deal.

Except it is one. Hajime stands in some flower shop he passes every day to work, contemplating what kind of bouquet Oikawa would most appreciate. He doesn’t know why he’s buying one at all, but a single glance at the bright flowers had him pulled in. He ends up with one that has soft pink petals that remind him of the blush that had covered Oikawa’s cheeks when he’d given him the tickets. He pays for the damn thing and keeps it out of his line of vision the entire walk there. There’s a chill in the wind as the sun sets behind the symphony hall and Hajime hopes that his light coat will last him the walk home too.

The crowd is – unexpected. He knew that Oikawa was a well-known violinist, but it had not sunk in until this moment. He feels dumb holding the bouquet, and this feeling is only slightly quelled when he sees other people holding flowers as well. On the other side, it makes him feel a certain irrelevancy that he won’t admit to. Oikawa gave him the ticket, but what if he had given all of these people tickets as well?

When he shows said ticket to the people at the door, he is guided to his seat and handed a pamphlet. It’s awfully plain and austere, and if Hajime were a betting man he’d say that Oikawa had absolutely no hand in the making of it. Upon opening it he is greeted by a headshot of the man himself, grinning charmingly from glossy paper. There’s a rather extensive song list on the other side, and he honestly has no idea what any of these songs sound like or if they’re impressive or not. They’re all long titles with foreign names like Paganiniana and Rondo Capriccioso and Hajime just skips straight over them and closes the pamphlet.

By the time the show is about to start, the entirety of the center of the symphony hall is full of people, well dressed and sitting patiently. It’s quiet but for the small murmurs of conversation, though it all still seems too loud to Hajime’s ears. He is granted reprieve when the lights dim, but as it always is with Oikawa Tooru, it doesn’t last long. The crowd erupts into applause that he joins instinctually when Oikawa comes out, walking to the center of the stage and bowing.

“Thank you for coming to see me tonight!” He’s saying into a microphone, looking around at the audience in front of him. “You all look lovely.” The crowd laughs, and Hajime gets the distinct feeling that they’re all wrapped around his finger. He continues about his introduction, thanking people and introducing a person who would be his accompanist on certain pieces. He’s the Oikawa Tooru that Hajime’d first met, nothing but kind and stunning smiles, not a trace of his childish demeanor in sight.

When he starts playing, Hajime expects to hear pretty much just what Oikawa had been practicing all that time on the balcony and – it _is_ the same song. But,

Oikawa looks stunning all over again in his good looking, well-fitted suit and even from the “best seat” in the middle of the hall, Hajime can see the lights twinkle in his eyes and he can see the emotions fly across his face as Tooru becomes completely immersed in the song. Hajime thinks if someone were to try and stop him from playing it would be absolutely impossible. The atmosphere is different and the song is somehow more intense than those days on the balcony and Hajime feels his heart burst at how beautiful and intangible Tooru looks.

Songs continue one after another with only a brief pause in between. He can hardly notice them, honestly, fully entranced by the man on the stage. The pieces are impressive, Oikawa’s fingers flying against the fingerboard with precision and arm working the bow with such fluidity that it’s almost akin to sloshing water. His face expressive, his body swaying, it was genuinely hard to look away.

He’s only jerked out of his reverie during the last song. It wasn’t a very extraordinary piece compared to the others and was rather slow and happy. Oikawa’s expression is calm and pleasant and Hajime – for some reason – has the feeling that he isn’t playing this to impress the audience. It’s like that Monday months ago when the notes had coated his senses, made him see, hear, feel the music. It had felt like Oikawa was playing just for him.

It’s like that now, too. Amidst the crowd of people, he feels like it was just him and Tooru. He wonders if any other people feel the same as well, eyes locked on the beautiful man on stage.

When the concert is over, the audience bursts into applause louder than before. Oikawa bows a full 90 degrees, coming back up with a beautiful smile. After a couple of more bows, the crowd disperses, save for about ¼ of the people rushing to the front to greet Oikawa, who’s coming off the stage.

Hajime takes a few steps forward, heart in throat and bouquet in hand. But he stops in his tracks. He doesn’t know how to talk to this Tooru, the one who’s breathless and stunning and excited. He doesn’t know how to have a normal, positive conversation with him. All too soon he’s discouraged, and he turns in the opposite direction. He’s ready to throw the arrangement in the trash, leave this place and tell Oikawa casually that it was good but he fell asleep and that classical music was boring –

“Iwa-chan!”

His body whips around faster than he really wanted it to, taking in the image of Oikawa running towards him, violin in hand.

“Are these flowers for me?” Oikawa asks and Hajime is grateful that he didn’t have to say anything. “Wooow, thanks!” He takes them from his grasp, holding them close. “Thanks, you brute, I’m surprised you didn’t crush them, heh.”

Oikawa’s holding these flowers to his chest and smiling sweetly and in the dark dim of the auditorium he seems to glow and how can Hajime even begin to compare to such a being – “Don’t assume everything’s for you,” Hajime says, walking towards the exit.

“Wait for me at the entrance, I need to get my case!” Oikawa waves, running in the opposite direction.

Why does waiting for him to come out of the glass doors feel like he’s waiting to take Tooru out on a date? Oikawa comes out, violin case bouncing lightly on his back, and Hajime automatically pulls at the strap going across his chest. “Let me carry it.”

Oikawa grins at him, handing the case to Hajime and then latching on to his arm. Tooru’s hand is warm on his bicep and he genuinely has to keep himself from flexing. They walk their way back to their apartment complex, quiet but for the steps of their feet making contact with the concrete. Hajime hazards a glance to his side, studying Tooru’s features. He’s still glowing, obviously pleased with his performance and how it came out. Hajime prefers it to the days where he’s stuck on a measure and he has that crease in his brow that Hajime wants to smooth out.

He likes Oikawa so much he thinks he might burst.

“Sooo, what did you think?”

“Of what?”

Oikawa’s grip tightens on his arm. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the concert you were just at?”

“Fuck off,” Hajime resists the urge to trip him, seeing as he’d probably end up falling too. “It was good.”

“Just ‘good’?”

“Yeah.” He concentrates on the cracks in the pavements below him, carefully avoiding Oikawa’s piercing gaze. “You know you’re amazing, do you really need me to say anything? I don’t know anything about classical music, so I wouldn’t be able to give you a concrete review.”

Oikawa leans in, cheek brushing Hajime’s shoulder. “I value and respect your opinion. Also you’ve at least played a stringed instrument, so you’re better than most.”

“It was great. I could tell everyone was enthralled by your performance. You could have played for 3 more hours and I don’t think anyone would have noticed.”

“Were you enthralled?”

Hajime’s body heats up, heart pounding dangerously. “I said everyone.”

When they finally make it back, standing at their respective doors, violin returned, neither of them make a move to go inside. Hajime doesn’t want to go inside – their time together would most certainly end.

“…Wanna come in?”

God, does he want to. He wants to go in so bad and spend the rest of the night with Oikawa, to sleep next to him and to tell him how amazing and talented he is. “I…” he swallows, averting his eyes. “Nah, I need to turn in for the night. Got work tomorrow. Good night.”

He can’t look at Oikawa as he opens the door, slipping inside and closing the door quietly behind him. He stands in the entryway, listening as Oikawa enters his own apartment. He walks around his apartment, picking up stray wrappers and cups, but he honestly is itching for a cigarette, or maybe a whole pack. He honestly doesn’t think he’d be able look at that balcony, just a stone’s throw away, and not automatically climb across.

He does it anyway. He goes outside, pack of smokes clenched in his fist, and lights one. He can’t look away from the balcony. Oikawa’s lights are on, curtains pulled open, lighting up the plants and furniture.

He manages to inhale 2 cigarettes before he’s clambering over with practiced ease. He knocks on the glass of the door.

Tooru turns around, surprised, setting down the vase that now held the bouquet Hajime got him. He pulls open the door, eyes wide yet soft, grinning. “Did you change your mind – ”

Hajime flies forward, hands on Tooru’s cheeks, and kisses him.

Immediately, Tooru reciprocates, hands grasping at Hajime’s arms, lips working against his. They pull apart for breath, foreheads pressed together, and eyes locked.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you,” Hajime admits.

“Why didn’t you then?”

They reattach, bodies pressed together. Tooru wraps his arms around Hajime’s neck, chests airtight against each other. Hajime’s hands travel down from Tooru’s lower back cupping his ass, causing Tooru to slide a leg around Hajime’s hip. He hoists the taller man up and Tooru wraps himself more fully against him, legs clenching around his waist. He carries them to the couch nearby, laying Tooru down and kissing him once, twice before breaking away to bite kisses into Tooru’s neck.

“I-Iwa-chan,” he moans quietly, body arcing into Hajime’s, desperate to be full against each other again. His hands wander to the front of Hajime’s shirt, fingers plucking the buttons open.

Hajime pulls away. “Hey, isn’t this a little too fast?”

Tooru’s hands hook into his partially opened shirt, and he smiles sweetly up at Hajime. “We can stop if you want to. I’m okay with cuddling.”

He remains frozen above Tooru, studying his expression. He wants to keep going, especially when he notices _something hard_ pressed into his thigh. Tooru’s eyes are searching his as well, his gentle smile remaining ever present. “Do…you want to?”

Grin turning mischievous, Tooru grinds up into Hajime, moaning. “Does this answer your question?”

And just like that, they continue what they were doing earlier. Hajime kisses a trail down Tooru’s chest as he pulls open the buttons on his shirt, forcing his hands to pull away and run his fingers through Hajime’s hair. When he reaches the hem of Tooru’s pants, Tooru pulls him back up to press their mouths together, tongue brushing Hajime’s bottom lip. Hajime lets his jaw fall open as his free hand works the button of Tooru’s slacks open, rubbing his length gently. His hips tip up into his hand, desperate for friction. Hajime dips beneath Tooru’s underwear, running his fingers along the line of his dick.

“Don’t tease me, Iwa-chan,” He whines, grinding his hand against Hajime’s own front in some sort of sweet revenge before pulling out his cock as well. They’re both stroking each other, eyes locked and breath intermingling. Hajime genuinely can’t believe how he got into this situation, with this beautiful man under him, working him into ecstasy.

When they finish, Hajime cleans them both up with tissues, throwing them aside for later pickup. He collapses, burying his face into Tooru’s neck, breath heavy.

“Thanks for the hand, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m going to leave, don’t think I won’t.”

Tooru laughs, intertwining their fingers together on his chest, heart beating steadily against their palms.

**Author's Note:**

> so uh regarding the concert - it was actually a little hard to write because its through iwachan's point of view so i had to describe songs without their titles and that was just so stressful and that's why there's only two songs written out. the first song is paganiniana by milstein and the second is a violin arrangement of je te veux by erik satie. the rest of the songs dont _need_ mentioning but i definitely almost wrote scenes for wieniawski's violin concerto no. 1 and saint saens' introduction et rondo capriccioso.  
>  and the scene where iwachan's on the balcony all depressed and oikawa just comes out and sorta starts playing for him - i wrote that one as a violin arrangement of fritz kreisler's liebesleid.  
> if you need the specific link to any of these songs i would be happy to provide them!
> 
> anyway i hope u enjoyed this story about dangerous balcony scaling
> 
> might write some more in this specific au?
> 
> peaa.tumblr.com


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